The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance

by Trisha Telep

  “Could you fend for yourself?” He growled the words, doubtful of her answer.

  “Would my answer change yours? If I told you that I may wield a sword as easily as a man would ye leave me to my fate? If my reply was that I am at his mercy would ye give up your life in an attempt to save mine?” She stood at the edge of the surf with her hair flying about her. She turned her quicksilver eyes upon him. “I will not answer yea or nay so that ye may not cry out that I tricked you.”

  “If I am dead what will it matter?”

  She pulled back the hair that tossed across her face and held it there so that her gaze was unfettered. “It will matter to me.”

  There were more things he should ask her. There were things he should know about the enemy that would come. He should not trust her yet she said he must to survive the coming battle. All these thoughts he pushed from his head. Instead he put his arm about her waist and pulled her to him. She felt as light as the night air, yet solid in her strength, like the blade he bore in his other hand. He cared naught for that at the moment. If he were to die, then he would know in the next few moments what he was to die for.

  She offered him no resistance. She stared at him with her quicksilver eyes as her hair flew about their bodies as if to wrap them into a cocoon. A slight smile twisted her lips. She moved as he did, each turning their head towards a kiss. He was gentle at first, testing her and she complied. He moved his hand up to her head and wrapped his sword arm around her back, pulling her fully against him. Her arms twined about his neck and the kiss turned from gentle question to answering need.

  Another battle cry from Balor met his ears but he ignored it. His time to fight would come soon enough. For Conn there was nothing else but this instant, with this woman.

  Aine well knew his intent. It was always the intent of men to possess her. Yet this man, at this time, was different. He did not want her for her powers or because he thought she was the key to a great treasure. He just wanted her for her. Because he was alone and about to face death and he wanted to know that life was worth the living. He wanted her because he was a man and she was a woman. It was the most basic of needs that blurred the lines between human and Fae.

  Aine decided not to think on it. She decided just to feel. His lips moved against hers, his tongue probed her mouth and she let him in. She felt the pressure of his sword hilt in the small of her back and his shaft rubbing against her belly. She ground her hips against his and he growled, low in his throat. He picked her up without breaking the kiss and carried her to the cloak she’d left lying by the fire.

  Conn buried his sword, blade first into the sand. He stood over her, tall and wide of shoulder, narrow of waist and hip. His dark hair shadowed his face as he looked down at her with the firelight reflecting in his eyes. Behind him the lightning flashed across the sky and Balor once more screamed his horrible cry. His muscular thighs flexed as he knelt before her. She rose up to meet him and he lifted the hem of his tunic to pull it over her head.

  Her body was not a mystery to him. He had seen her before when he pulled her from the surf, had even placed his chainse upon her body after taking it from his own. Still he looked at her, his eyes sweeping her from head to toe as she once more lay back on the blanket in the sand.

  He took off his jerkin and set it aside to expose his deeply muscular chest and the deep clefts of his stomach. She was not surprised when he left his gauntlets and chausses in place. He would not be caught unready should any happen upon them. His eyes covered her, ravaged her until he lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms. She was prepared for him to conquer her in the way that most warriors would. She was not ready for the gentle and tender possession of his arms about her, nor the way his lips softly touched hers.

  He kept his eyes open while he kissed her and she saw that they were a deep shade of blue, like the sea on a stormy day. It was strange, gazing into his eyes. She could not have stopped, or closed her own, as they seemed to hold her captive while his arms gave her opportunity to escape, if she desired it.

  She did not. She desired more. More of him, more of his kisses, more of his hands roaming her back and side, yet aching with need as he cupped her breast and rubbed his thumb over the peak of her nipple. She gasped against his mouth and arched into his palm while her hips moved closer against him and begged him for more. He shut his eyes, finally, as if falling into a dream, and slowly trailed kisses down her neck. His hair brushed against her skin, guiding the way for his mouth, until she thought she would combust with need. His lips touched her breast and drove her body to a greater desire.

  Was she wrong about him? Was he more than a man? More than a mortal? For surely no mortal could send her into this boiling cauldron of want. This was something she’d never felt before and all she could do was wrap her hands in his hair, close her eyes and hold on.

  His hand trailed over her stomach and her muscles clenched at his touch as anticipation filled her. He splayed his big hand into the hollow of it, the width of his fingers spread wide enough to cover her from side to side. She spread her legs, willing him and wanting him to touch her, there, in that place that brought the dancing of stars across the sky. His thumb dipped into her folds and she sighed deeply and hooked her leg around his hip.

  He watched her. She opened her eyes to see his eyes on her. A quick smile flitted across his face as he looked at her and she wondered, briefly, what it would be like to see him laugh. Then he dipped his fingers inside of her and all thoughts fled her mind save one: I want him . . .

  Her hips rose to meet his hand.

  “Aine,” he said and took his hand away. She reached for him. His hands were at his waist, removing his chausses and she helped him, slipping them down and freeing him.

  The gentleness left him then. He pulled back and pushed inside her, until he was buried and his pelvis ground against her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and raked her nails down his back and held on. He kissed her again, desperately. He pulled her lower lip into his teeth. She rocked against him, with him. He released her lip and buried his head into her neck. Her eyes were open and she saw the sky, clear now, and the stars like pinpricks in the heavens above. She kept her eyes on them until they began to swirl and she knew if she reached up her hand, she could touch them. She gathered a handful, wrapped her arms around Conn’s waist and held on as the brilliance of the stars blinded her.

  Aine’s fingers gently traced a pattern on the small of his back as Conn lay atop her and gathered his strength. The base of his spine tingled where she touched him. He understood now why men lost their souls in pursuit of a Sidh woman. He’d never experienced a release such as the one just past. He felt blinded from it, as if he’d looked directly at the sun. It was strange, the feeling of disquiet, mixed with something he could only call contentment. If only he could stay in her arms for the rest of the night, nay, for the rest of his life.

  Balor’s battle cry, drifting once more across the water, reminded him that he could not. Without a word, he rose, adjusted his chausses, and handed his chainse to Aine before he went to his stallion. Niul lowered his head and Conn leaned his brow against it in silent communication with the one who had been his dearest companion.

  He heard her movement behind him, felt her silent footsteps in the sand. She touched the small of his back once more. “How long have you had this mark?” Her question surprised him. Conn glanced over his shoulder and saw that she had wrapped his cloak about her body. The wind held a bite to it. He should build up the fire while he had the chance.

  “Of what mark do you speak?” he asked. “Is it a scar?” He knew of none in that location. He had several, however, all souvenirs of his many battles, but none in the small of his back.

  “Nay.” She traced it once more with her fingers. “’Tis like mine,” she said and dipped her shoulder to show him the blue interlocking lines upon her back.

  Conn’s hand went to his back. “I have no mark,” he said.

  “Ye do.” Her
eyes did not lie, yet it had to be so. He would know if he had a mark. He twisted around in an attempt to see for himself of what she spoke but his body would not bend to suit his desire.

  Aine grabbed his hand. “Stop,” she said. “I will show you.” Conn jerked away from her. This talk of strange marks upon his skin was too much. He should not have made love to her. It was her way of entrapping him.

  Yet, you were captivated by her before you made love to her. Your decision was made of your own free will. Was it not so?

  “What spell have you placed upon me?” He wrinkled his brow, once more going over the moments since they met to recall if she had conjured something that he might have missed.

  Aine smiled and touched the scar upon his cheek with her fingertip. “It is you who have placed a spell on me.” She pushed his hair away from his face and behind his ear. “I will show you the mark. Ye must allow it. Ye will see ’tis the only way to defeat Balor.” Aine placed her hand against his temple and stood beside him, facing in the opposite direction. “Ye will see what I see,” she said. “Close your eyes and it will be done.”

  I have nothing to lose. I am already a dead man. Conn closed his eyes.

  “Use my eyes to see.” Her voice held a caress that dispelled the incongruity of her words. He took a deep breath and released it.

  He saw Niul, even though his back was to the horse. Niul tossed his head up and down and pawed at the sand. The line of his sight moved and Conn saw dark hair that tossed in the wind and his profile, facing the fire and the sea with his eyes closed. How can this be? He was seeing with her eyes. What else could it be? Her hand left his face, yet he could still see with her eyes. Her fingers trailed down his shoulder and back as her eyes followed the trail. He saw the scar below his shoulder blade from one of his first battles. Her eyes moved lower and – there – he saw the mark. She traced it with her fingers. Two sets of blue interlocking lines that looped at the corners and formed a triangle. Just like the mark on her shoulder. It closed into his vision and he realized she had bent so that it was at eye level. Then it faded from view and he felt her lips gently touch him with a kiss at the place where the mark had formed.

  The mark and his vision of it were beyond his comprehension at the moment.

  “It was not chance that brought us together this night at this place.”

  He opened his eyes to find her standing before him. “Nor was it chance that placed the mark upon me.” He took her hands into his and turned them so they were palms up. They were ghostly white against the bronze of his skin. Delicate, as if he held a bird in his grasp. “Ye did this.”

  Her eyes were steady upon him. “Believe me when I say I do not know how this happened, I just know that it has.” Her hands folded over his.

  There were more important things to consider at the moment. “Whatever the cause there is naught to be done now. I am as trapped by this as you are.” He could not blame her for anything that had happened, or would happen, when it was his own honour that demanded he stay. The decision was made when he went into the surf to save her. He would not go back on it now.

  Conn went to Niul. “Niul will take you, should things go badly.” His words were optimistic at best. He had no chance of winning a fight against a warrior who could kill with a look. He could only hope that he would die with honour, and take Balor with him, or wound him enough that Aine could get away. Conn saddled Niul as she watched.

  “Let me be your eyes,” she said when he was finished preparing Niul. “It can work. You have seen that it will.”

  “You would have me fight without honour by using your gifts?”

  “I would have you balance the field. Balor certainly will not hesitate to use his gift against you. His gift that is endowed by evil and darkness. Let us fight evil and darkness with goodness and light.” Aine grabbed his arm. “I would not have you die needlessly.”

  “I would hope not to die at all.” Conn looked at the sea, fallen back now, as the tide was nearly at its lowest point. He walked to the line where wet sand met dry and looked at the tower. The lightning was gone and the moon played a game of hide and seek with the clouds. A long time had passed since Balor’s last cry. He would come, and soon. “Could it be that easy?” he asked Aine who had once more joined him.

  “Mayhap easier than you think,” she said. “Ye must simply trust in me.”

  “Trust is not something simply given. Once upon a time I believed in it as I believed in the goodness of man and kings. I have since learned that the only thing worth believing in is your own true worth.”

  “I believe in you. You have just shared your soul with me by this fire and I know it to be good. Indeed ye now wear the mark of my people, a blessing not lightly given. I have been honest with you in all things, not an easy task for me as my experience with man is not one I treasure.” She implored him once more. “Let me give you this.”

  The clouds moved on and the light of the moon shone down upon them. Conn gazed into her quicksilver eyes and saw nothing to give him pause. They shone with emotion and his heart felt strange within his chest. He lifted a hand to her cheek and she moved it against his palm.

  “I will trust you,” he said. Before his words were done Balor’s war cry joined them. He had come.

  * * *

  Aine stood by the fire with Niul’s reins in her hand. Conn stood a body length away before her. Both of them faced north and Balor who would soon be upon them. Conn wore a strip of linen, torn from his chainse, across his eyes and held his broadsword and shield in his capable hands.

  Niul tossed his head and Conn jerked involuntarily in their direction. Aine calmed the horse with a touch and kept her eyes to the north. She sensed Balor in much the same manner the horse did.

  Finally, from the shadows, he strode forth. He stood a head taller than Conn, completely bald, and with the one large blue eye in the middle of his forehead. The rest of his face was like that of a man, with a large nose and wide mouth with thick stumps of teeth. His chest was bare and his arms bore wide bands of bronze. He wore leather leggings tied with cross-garters, and low boots. One hand bore a sword and the other a mace. Balor walked directly to where Conn stood, thumped his broad chest with the hilt of his sword and roared.

  “Trust in me,” Aine said. Her eyes focused on the chain about Balor’s neck. Upon it was her keystone that would take her back to her world. She must lay claim to it while the portal was open.

  Conn spun his sword in his hands and widened his stance. Aine saw his head move, slightly, up and down, in agreement. He trusted her. She would not fail him.

  It was as if he looked through a long deep tunnel. Mayhap it was because of her proximity. She was not as close as before when she showed him the mark. She must stay back to give him room to fight.

  As Balor appeared from the darkness and stalked to where he stood, Conn was suddenly glad for the blindfold. Every instinct he possessed had screamed against it when Aine tore the strip from his chainse and placed it over his eyes. He knew now that she was right and he would not have been able to stop himself from staring at the one strange eye in Balor’s forehead. He would be dead before he had a chance to strike a blow at his enemy.

  If the eye is his tool to killing then is the eye the sure way to kill him? Conn knew in his heart it was so. To kill Balor he must stab him in the eye. An eye that was a good head taller than he was, he realized, when Balor stopped before him, thumped his chest and roared.

  “Trust in me.” He heard the words in his mind and nodded his head in response. He gripped his sword. He was ready.

  Balor came at him in a rush. The giant’s frustration at Conn’s blindfold was obvious. Conn realized his perspective on Balor was a little off when he had to bend backwards to block an attack with the mace. He pushed up with his shield and swung his sword at Balor’s legs.

  Aine must have realized the problem because his perspective suddenly changed. She had moved closer. He must be careful not to bring her into the battle. He could no
t become tangled with her, or, worse, let Balor grab her once more as a hostage.

  He felt the satisfying drag of his sword as it nicked Balor’s leg. The giant roared once more in frustration and danced back and away from his thrust. Conn stood upright again and pressed his attack, leading with his shield and following with his sword. Balor’s reactions were slower but his reach was greater. While Conn barely brushed at the giant, he had to duck to avoid Balor’s swinging mace and thrusting sword that threatened to take his head off if either connected. Still he drove the giant back and knew by his vision that Aine followed.

  But they were moving away from the firelight and her vision was dimming with the darkness that surrounded them. Aine was to his right, which meant she could not see what was coming to his left. He could only hope that his warrior’s instinct would lead him and his shield would do the job of protecting his side. One blow finally staggered him. Balor had come at him with his mace swinging from the side and it buried itself in the shield. As Balor tried to pull the mace free he pulled Conn’s arm with him so as to leave Conn’s torso exposed. Conn had no choice but to release his hold on his shield while he ducked and rolled beneath the thrust of Balor’s sword. He realized he’d come to his feet on the opposite side of Balor when all he could see was the giant’s back and himself beyond.

  Balor swung his mace outwards, trying to free the shield. Conn knew Aine was running towards him. Still he must take advantage of Balor’s distraction. He gripped his sword with both hands and raised it over his head with the point facing straight out. As he brought the full force of his strength into the downwards motion, he felt the impact of metal against the bone of his thigh. Conn’s scream was one of pain, anger and frustration but he kept his grip. The loss of his balance pushed him against Balor and his sword went straight into his eye and pierced through his skull. Balor went to his knees and Conn fell to the side, dragging himself away. He ripped the blindfold from his face and turned in time to see the giant tumble face forwards into the sand, braced up by the hilt of his sword.